Save The Last Dance
by Bimadabomi
Summary: Sam/Diane. Maybe this lifetime was just not the lifetime for them. But does that mean happily ever after doesn't exist?


The five years that Diane Chambers worked at Cheers, she and Sam Malone orbited around one another, not always in the same place at the same time - physically, for periods of time, – or emotionally. But they always knew – thought they knew – that one day it would be the two of them. One day, they would figure it out.

It always seemed possible, until that last time she walked out of Cheers, promising her fiancé that she would be back in six months. He knew better, though – and though she truly believed she would return in six months, she realized later that he knew all along that this was "it" for them.

When she returned six years later, they almost went for it, once again. Maybe they should have, she often thought as the years went on. But at the time, they decided that their time to be together had passed. They'd made choices – she'd made a choice, anyway and he'd made the choice to make her make that choice– and they were no longer orbiting in the same space anymore. They lived in different worlds by then.

Diane went on to live her life. She wrote. She published some works, she wrote for some TV shows, she found herself flittering from project to project, job to job, always feeling a little anxious about what project would be her next. She'd found herself unstable, asking Frasier for help once again a few years after she and Sam had closed the door to their future. She'd felt lonely at times. Sometimes unhappy, sometimes content with herself and her writing. She married, eventually – and was happy, albeit momentarily, and then divorced – and she was unhappy again. The child came after the divorce was finalized, bringing her some happiness again despite the circumstances. Her son was her pride and joy, but she found herself raising him on her own most of the time. It was hard. He married, eventually, and moved away with his wife and young daughter, her granddaughter whom she never saw as much of as she would have liked. That was hard, too.

She was 86 when her daughter-in-law offered for her to come live with them, so she could "slow down" and "relax," but she declined. She never wanted to be a burden to her family. Instead, she found herself in an upscale retirement home. She didn't mind too much – she would read her books most of the day. Sometimes she'd find someone who was willing to listen to her analysis of the works. That was the year she heard about Sam.

As much as his days of fame were behind him, even when she knew him, his fame was still worth something in his death. She was reading in the corner of the common room, mostly ignoring the gentlemen who were watching the television on the other side of the room (actually, it reminded her much of her days at Cheers), when she heard the news, top story during the sports report: Sam "Mayday" Malone had passed away at the age of 90. Her breath escaped her and she felt like she'd been jabbed in the stomach.

He'd lived a long life. She was especially impressed given his drinking days – none of it seemed to catch up to him. "Mayday was unmarried, with no children," the newscaster added, as though all of this was an afterthought to his career. _He could've been married_ , she thought immediately. _It could have been me_. _I could've been his wife. We could have had children._ Though her own life had never amounted to much, she had always been thankful for her son – and she was saddened to think Sam had no children. She'd always pictured him as a good father, playing ball with his kids, coaching Little League teams and chasing away young men from any daughters he may have, knowing all too well what they had in mind.

The two of them, it seemed, went off track that night in the bar when they were supposed to marry. The night they were supposed to find that spouse, begin the life that would lead to those children. Maybe they took the road less traveled when they were supposed to have taken the road commonly traveled.

But the time will come when you'll look back on this moment and realize you've made a terrible mistake.

Sumner's words often haunted her. But not for the reason Sumner had thought they would back then. She often looked back at that moment. And it took her many years before she admitted she made a terrible mistake.

She would've been happier with the husband instead of the book deal. The deal that hadn't even amounted to what she had thought it would.

Maybe she shouldn't have left. Maybe she should've come back sooner, as soon as she knew the book deal was a flub. Maybe she shouldn't have walked away again six years later.

Staring silently at the news even after the story moved from Sam's life and career to the weather report (sunny and warm the next seven days). She felt at peace for Sam. She'd heard Cheers had been even more successful as the years went on. He had his friends. He appeared to have had good health.

She continued to think of Sam that night. What would their life have been like, had they married? She remembered their house vividly. The one that she had put in a down payment on without even asking her husband-to-be. She was even willing to let a picture of dogs playing poker hang over her fireplace, by then – she was that invested in their lives, their marriage, the compromise that had to come with it. She wondered what had become of that house. She'd left without a care in the world, leaving Sam to deal with the home, the fallout, all of it.

That night, she dreamed of their home. She was there, on the front porch. She pushed the door open gingerly.

"Welcome home, Sweetheart."

She couldn't forget that voice. "Sam?"

"Who else were you expecting?"

The home was furnished, in a way that they had never gotten around to furnishing during their final days of their engagement.

"Where am I?" she asked softly. She noticed Sam appeared to be about as old as she herself was. His hair was no longer brown, but instead grey. His face carried years of experience, along with some wrinkles. He moved slower than he used to – not the Sam Malone she had known who had the ability to jump over the bar in a single bound.

"You're _home_ ," he said softly, holding out his arms. "Can I have this dance?"

Without questioning anything more, she stepped into his arms. They began to step in time to the music, be it real or in her head. "Did we marry, Sam?" she asked, looking around, feeling as if this is how their home would have appeared after a lifetime of different choices, beginning with that night in the bar when she chose to go write her book. Something was odd. This was not a dream. This was real. But how could it be? This was not the life she'd lived. "Am I…" she trailed off. "Did I…" Somehow, she knew. She was at peace, too. She didn't feel the aches and pains of arthritis anymore (those years of waiting tables on heels had done a number on her). "How did I…?"

"Broken heart. Old Sammy's gone and poof, there she goes!"

She rolled her eyes, much in the way she always had when he would tease her or joke. "Oh, Sam."

"We didn't get it right last time, Diane." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "But for eternity, it's you and me. We don't belong to anyone else, after all."

Perhaps happily ever after did exist.


End file.
